on it—I'll take that photograph you showed me last night. And—we'll have to offer a specific reward in each. How much is it to be, Miss Fosdyke? For you'll have to pay it, you know."
"Anything you like!" said Betty eagerly. "A thousand pounds?—would that do, to begin with."
"We'll say half of it," answered Starmidge. "Very good. Now, Mr. Polke, if you'll tell me where this Mr. Parkinson's to be found, and where the best printing office in the place is, I'll go to work."
"Scammonds are the best printers—and they're quick," said Polke. "But I'll come with you."
"Is there anything I can do?" asked Betty. "If I could only be doing something!"
Starmidge nodded his comprehension and mused a while.
"Just so!" he said. "You don't want to sit and wait. Well, there is something you might do, Miss Fosdyke, as you're Mr. Horbury's niece. Mr. Polke's been telling me about Mr. Horbury's household arrangements. Now, as you are a relation, suppose you call on his housekeeper, who was the last person to see him, and get all the information you can out of her? Draw her on to talk-you never know what interesting point you mayn't get in that way. And—are you Mr. Horbury's nearest relation?"
"Yes—the very nearest—next-of-kin," answered Betty.
"Then ask to see his papers—his desk—his private belongings," said Starmidge. "Demand to see them! You've the legal right. And let us know—you'll always find me somewhere about Mr. Polke's—how
